


Get Out Of My Hair!

by FuchsiaPaper



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Charles doesn't give a fuck lol, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kinda, M/M, Sven is so done, Toppat Recruits Ending | TR (Henry Stickmin), bald sven memes lmao, crackfic, cute shit, he will not stand for all this blasphemy, i'm just so tired, idk - Freeform, like Sven, sighs all around, wig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaPaper/pseuds/FuchsiaPaper
Summary: Well, well, well. Will you look at that. ANOTHER artwork-inspired fic.https://twitter.com/NoirJung/status/1341046423140241409Damn me, damn me and my procrastination to heck.-*-Sven is sick and tired of all the stupid jokes referring to his hair, almost wishing he could leave the fools outright. When he meets a certain government pilot however, he expects an arrest, but receives something entirely different.
Relationships: Burt Curtis/Sven Svensson, Charles Calvin & Sven Svensson, Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin, Charles Calvin/Sven Svensson, Henry Stickmin/Ellie Rose
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	Get Out Of My Hair!

**Author's Note:**

> I hate myself smh
> 
> Work is inspired by @NoirJung on twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/NoirJung/status/1341046423140241409

Sven swore to the almighty stick god above and more, if he had to go through one more single minute of getting teased and poked at for his _perfectly normal hair thank you_ , he was going to end up tearing it off himself.

It had all started with a stupid meme. A joke circulating the orbital station after some weird game named Between Us or whatever, featured a character that looked _strikingly_ similar to Sven. Like, ridiculously similar. It was a fictional player, and yet it somehow seemed to be his bloody digital doppelganger. By now he could probably recite the video word for word, but basically, it featured his mimic being revealed to be bald--wearing a fake wig of blond hair and a blue hat, thus ensuing waves of outcry and fanatic memery.  
No, he doesn't know the backstory as to why. And he doesn't ever want to know.  
  
This game had swept the whole of Earth, so its influence was inevitable on the Toppat Clan as well.  
He just wished it didn't have to be _this._

Just the other week, he's had THREE encounters about his goddamn hair. The first was, unsurprisingly, Burt.  
As the head of communications, he has to relay back to the recon team on Earth frequently. He's also no stranger to occasionally playing online games during slow days, what with being seated in front of a computer all day.

Burt had walked up behind him in that bizarrely silent way he always does, and suddenly brought up a hand to Sven's cheek. He startled, blushing at the gesture. If anyone were to ask, he'd always flat out deny having a crush on anyone in the clan to avoid complication. But he always seemed to hold a soft spot for Curtis. Maybe it's due to his drawling voice, or the way he listens to him without complaint, or--

"What.. are you doing?" Sven's fluttery feelings dissipated once he realized Burt was also lifting his hat, the hand moreso searching his tufts of hair than petting them.

"Nothing." Nothing his Swedish ass.

Sven quickly wrest himself out of Burt's cool, softly smooth han- oh for fuck's sake.  
"You're trying to see if I'm bald, aren't you?" Sven accused, deeply offended, and just a little bit hurt that Burt of all people would do the same exact annoying snoop everybody else was doing.

Burt stared at Sven minutely with those deep eyes of endless hazel layers, large and probing brown that almost seemed-

"Maybe." Fuck _everybody_. Sven walked away with a huff, grumbling under his breath about how men ain't shit, and tended to his own files.

The very next day, the new recruit Henry came up to him in the loungeroom. He grimaced, hoping that if he ignored him, he'll just leave him be. It's not like he had anything against the guy, or the other new recruit who he was fairly sure was his girlfriend, but he also wasn't his friend. Plus, all the recent _attacks_ (because they bloody well felt like it) had him on edge, especially after that betrayal by Burt.

Soon as two hands made their way to the sides of his head, he instantly tried to slap them away, but they were unrelenting. "What the shit." He knew he wasn't the strongest member of all time, but come on!  
Sven spouted curse after curse until Henry stopped tugging his hair and left, leaving him befuddled and more pissed than ever.  
  
As he kept wondering when this torture would end, the final blow came a few days after. Sven had just finished showering and put on his clothes once dry. Only thing not dry was his hair, so naturally, he used the hairdryer. You know, like any normal person with hair would do.

He mentally screamed when he noticed two people curiously sticking their heads into his _private quarters_ , and then this mental shrieking turned into disbelieving silence once he realized that it was the chief and his right hand man.

 _The chief. And his right hand man_.

If even THEY were afflicted, he most certainly had no more hope for a peaceful month or so in space (or however long that dumb game was going to remain popular, because this wig joke was not going away anytime soon).  
So for his own sanity, he decided to take a trip down to Earth and just _stay_ there for however long he felt like. Sure, he was a higher up Toppat with shit to do, but dammit they brought it upon themselves.

Once beamed down to solid soil, first thing he did was throw his hat down in frustration.

"I cannot believe them! One thing after another." He furiously ran his hands through his hair. He'd been taking more showers nowadays due to all the grubby hands trying to pull his whole scalp off, but apparently even in the bathroom he wouldn't be safe from scrutiny.  
  
It very nearly made him want to turn himself in to the authorities.

Sven sighed, stuffing his hat into his suit, and set out for a walk. Sven had asked Burt to beam him down "anywhere but here" though with a little bit of "greenery", and he thankfully complied without any nagging. Least he could count on him with that.  
Unfortunately, Burt also must've felt like being a little _funny_ today, because he was apparently beamed down in a field that was _directly behind a military base._

Hilarious.

Soon as Sven realized where he was, he slapped his face with both hands, dragging it downward. Just couldn't catch a break, could he. He was about to resort to calling Burt to beam him back up again, when somebody called out to him.

"Hey!"

Sven froze, hand twitching towards his gun. But hey.. he didn't have his hat on. Maybe this'll be on some Superman to Clark Kent shit and nobody would recognize him? Besides, it's not like he was one of the members who frequently went out into the thick of operations on Earth. He was pretty sure no news station ever got his face on camera.

Sven slowly turned around, taking in the sight of what he first assumed to be a soldier. Clunky red headphones, green army jacket, but a typical pilot's uniform underneath. He seemed fairly nonlethal enough, and didn't look angry at him for intruding, so Sven didn't make a move. The guy also, as Sven just noticed, was very handsome. Not in a supermodel sense, but in an oddly endearing kind of way.

"How'd you get here?" The man looked around briefly. "No one knows about this base."

Sven gulped. He was going to give Burt a good shake for this once he gets back. "I.. uh, got lost?"

"You got lost?"

"Yes."

"In the middle of nowhere?"

"..Yes."

"Huh. Well uh, where'd you come from then?"

"I-" Sven looked around, looking for any sign of nearby civilization. But the thick forests surrounding them clued him in on otherwise. "-I don't know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Cause I'm... lost."

"Well, I guess that makes sense." The man turned around, murmuring something into his headphones. Sven sighed in relief, turning to stow away and contact the station, when suddenly the pilot piped up again. "Alrighty, General gave me the go ahead. I'll help escort you back to where you need to go!"

What.

"What?" Sven still didn't even know where _here_ was. God, all he wanted was some nature to stroll through and destress, but here he was trying not to get arrested.

"I was headin over to my helicopter just now. It's parked way off from here.. I can give you a lift, and maybe once we're up in the air you'll be able to see where you came from!"

"Th-that.. that is..." _Peculiarly_ kind of a soldier to offer to some random civilian. Sven weighed his options. If he tried to run away now, that'd mark him as suspicious, maybe even get him shot. If he gets beamed up, the army will now have his confirmed profile as a Toppat member, and he wouldn't be able to walk about Earth freely without getting recognized in the streets.  
Sven bit back a groan, nodding. "..That is nice of you, thanks."

The pilot smiled brightly, extending a hand. Sven shook it questioningly. "Alright! Follow me. I'm Charles by the way. What's your name?"  
  


* * *

  
Ben.

Sven panicked and now he had to go by the name of fucking Ben. Curse him.

In the beginning of the walk, Sven was tense. And why wouldn't he be? He was frolicking through the woods with a member of one of the Toppat's biggest enemies, the US government. Any wrong move or a slip of the tongue (which, he was known for doing quite often) and he could possibly endanger the entire clan. Despite his current grievances with literally everybody there, he didn't necessarily want to get any of them hurt, or potentially killed.  
  
..Okay, maybe he wanted some to get arrested just to give them a hard time, but hey, their fault for being so insistently annoying.  
  
However, as time went on Sven couldn't help but relax. Charles was apparently a chatterbox, winding down topic after topic to accompany the sounds of feet crunching leaves and dirt. He should've been irritated, but he actually found the one way conversation rather charming. Bored, he gave in and began to make it a two way.

He probably shouldn't have, considering just how much Sven liked to rant himself. He knew he had loose lips, but eventually decided he'd be able to keep any top secret plans or intel out of his ramblings.  
At first, he started answering some of Charles' questions. His last name was Bensson (don't laugh, not everyone can come up with clever fake names under pressure alright?), he was from Sweden (why bother), his favorite season was winter, color blue, animal dog, etc...

Then the conversation steered more towards Sven being the one to initiate questions, and soon he was willingly giving up information about himself. Charles was surprisingly a good listener, and it didn't take long for him to start raving about the past couple of weeks. His frustrations just barely managed to be heard by Charles over the blaring helicopter blades, so Charles called back for him to close the doors and instead join him in the cockpit, using the front window to survey the landscapes below.

Sven hopped on front, but he was in too deep already. He was going on and on about every instance he's had to go through with somebody either asking him questions or physically sifting through his hair, and Charles eventually understood that Sven wouldn't actually start "searching" for where he came from until he's calmed down.

"That sounds pretty rough." Charles spoke for the first time since they've entered the helicopter, during a little pause when he offered Sven a water bottle. "But uh, I think I'm missing something here. Why does everyone keep bothering you about your hair?"

Sven blinked, staring at Charles as he focused on piloting. He... he actually didn't know about the game? When _every_ other denizen of Earth did?? Hell, even aliens probably heard of this shit with how much it's been buzzing globally.

"Huh.. well uh, it's because of some video game character. They look a lot like me, and the others joke about that."

"Ahh I see. So the character's got something going on with his hair?"

"You could say that.."

"What's the game called?"

Reason unbeknownst to Sven, he didn't want this random soldier to find out about it and, possibly, fall prey to the same idiotic meme as well. Didn't want him to.. make fun of him. The pilot seemed too nice to do that, but still, just in case.

"Oh nothing. Really, it's not a very good game." He didn't know that, but its mere existence has more than enough earned his wrath.

Charles shrugged. "Guess I'll take your word for it. Hey uh, so where do you want me to drop you off?"

Drop.. off?

Oh.

"There." Sven pointed to a random empty field.

"Uhh, ok. Sure, I can do that." He began to lower the helicopter. "That was um, pretty quick. I mean, you didn't even have to look down."

Sven didn't answer, mentally slapping himself. He'd gotten too carried away again, so he managed to will his mouth shut from any more idle ranting. It took more effort than he thought it would. Talking to Charles.. had felt strangely relieving. Guess he really needed to let some steam out.

Once the helicopter landed, Charles hopped out first and looked about the place. "Hm, are you sure you wanna be dropped off here?"

Sven nodded.

"Alrighty then, if you say so. Uh, I gotta go get on my mission soon but.. it was nice to meet you! Hope your week goes better."

"I doubt it." Sven rolled his eyes. "They're persistent buggers."

"Really? Didn't you tell them that you feel uncomfortable or something?"

"Well, I hit them a lot for it. But uh, no. Guess not."

Charles scrunched his nose up, it being somehow adorable to Sven. "Hey.. if someone keeps touching your head and it annoys you, well, I think you should let em know how it makes you feel! Maybe they don't know it hurts you."

Sven scoffed. "It doesn't hurt me."

"Physically maybe, but it does hurt your feelings right?"  
Sven shrugged one shoulder. Of course it did, but proper behavior isn't really to be expected in a criminal organization. Not everyone is particularly.. psychologically sound per se. There's plenty of smart people of course, they were top tier thieves, though that doesn't necessarily mean _nice._  
They keep up a code of "honor" amongst the clan to make sure everything is all in order and doesn't become "barbaric", as Reginald once said, but something like that is kinda hard to set in stone when you're knowingly on the other side of the law, and violent coups of the leader are perfectly acceptable.

Sven was surprised to find Charles' hand on his shoulder, it feeling like the warmest thing he's ever felt. Not hot, like bullets grazing by or nearly being caught up in an explosion. It was just, warmth. Flooding his entire body.

"I know it's not my business, but I encourage you to try talking it out with them!" And just as quick, the hand was gone. "Welp, time to go. Hope you make your way back home!"

Wait.

Sven didn't realize he grabbed Charles' wrist until it was too late. He scrambled for a reason as to why, though that'd be difficult to do when he himself didn't even know the actual reason.

"Uuh.. just in case I need some help again, could I contact you?" He was not doing this, he wasn't.

"Hm? Er, sure. Yeah.. here's a communicator. It'll connect to my headset whenever you need to call." Charles handed it over. It took a couple seconds for Sven to let go, a few longer for Charles to get in and wave goodbye as he flew away.

Sven waited a good five minutes before deciding to contact Burt again.

"Was it a good walk?" Burt boredly asked, his clacking keyboard in the background. Sven hummed, closing his eyes as he waited for the green beam to surround him.

"Yes."  
  


* * *

  
Who knew good communication could actually convey your feelings and resolve conflict? Not Sven, that's for sure.

He managed to speak with Burt and a couple other toppats, even the leaders, about how the constant prodding wasn't appreciated and that it distracted him from his work. Most of them were surprisingly decent and accommodating about it, while for the rest he had to provide "proof" by ruffling up his hair or something.

Either way, it all lessened considerably (save for a few occasional bothers in the hallways) by the next few weeks, and even though he _really_ , really shouldn't, he wanted to try speaking with that pilot again. Just to give a quick thanks maybe, and chat a bit more. He didn't know what it was, but being able to talk to someone outside the Toppat Clan, somebody unbiased from anything within it, was refreshing. He'd been in the clan for a long time, and while they had plenty of members, it could get suffocating within your own division at times.

After two days of failing to convince himself out of it, he called Charles up. They both had agreed to keep them confidential, mainly pushed by Sven after he briefly muttered "Hey Charles" _once_ on call near some toppats. For whatever reason, Henry had taken to spying on his calls after that, so he had to start visiting him in person instead.

The first few visits (yes, he knows he's weak--he met up with him more) were by the same field he randomly picked before.  
  
For the next ones though, Charles had recently suggested a new location. Rather than be afraid that he somehow found out he was a toppat, and decided to arrest him or whatever, Sven went along with it.  
  
He was certain if any other toppat knew, they would smack him upside down the head.

"Charles?" Sven walked up to the cliffside Charles gave him the coordinates for. It was a nice little spot, overlooking the ocean. The triangular edge of the land pointed towards the sunset, rippling red orange across the vast seas.  
  
Then, two hands covered his eyes, and he huffed.

"Guess who!" His voice was all too familiar to him by now, the sound engraved alongside random calls deep into the night, or squeezed in between shifts during lunch breaks.

"Hello Charles." Sven had a small smile on, moving out easily to greet him.

"So, whaddya think? Pretty sweet spot huh?"

"It's very charming.. do you come here often?"

"Not really, but it's definitely my go to spot for whenever I feel down or whatever." Sven cocked his head. The guy hardly ever seemed deterred by any inconvenience. Was he even capable of feeling sad??  
Charles grinned, then walked up to the very edge of the mini peninsula, dangerously close to the dropoff. Sven hurriedly tried to drag him back a bit, and sat down with him.

"How many." Charles started, a routine for them by now.

Sven grinned. "None."

"What?"

"Zero. Not a single person brought it up. That stupid joke might finally be gone now." Charles clapped.

"That's great! I'm glad."

"Yeah."

For a second, Sven feared that the lack of things to complain about might cause awkward silences, as compared to their normally fast paced conversations. But he was pleasantly surprised at its peacefulness. The quiet went on, till Charles finally shifted, turning to Sven.

"Y'know, when you first talked about everyone fussing about your hair, I thought it was because it was super soft or something."

"Hm? Really?"

"Yep. Like, irresistibly soft, so that everyone couldn't stop wanting to touch it."

Sven mussed up said hair. "Does it look soft?"

"Uh-huh. Heh, hey d'ya think I c-" Charles clamped his mouth, looking away off to the distance all of a sudden. Sven thought it was because he spotted something, but the only thing of interest there were some seagulls.

"..Charles?"

He quickly whipped his head to Sven. "Yes?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Err, nothing." Charles waved a hand.

Sven shook his head. "You can touch my hair if you want."

"Wha- huh?" Charles' eyes widened, then quickly darted away. "Oh no, you don't have to- it was insensitive of me. I mean, after all the times you talked abou-"

"Do it."

Charles flailed. "I.. no."

Sven sighed, moving himself in front of Charles. "I want you to, ok?"

"Oh." Charles shuffled around to give Sven more room behind. This only made Sven lean further back, so Charles stopped. "Well, in that case.. alright."

Hesitant fingers brushed against the tussles lightly, then more boldly when Sven impatiently shoved his head against them. In no less than a minute, Sven was laying against Charles, hands stroking the blonde locks gently.  
Again, Sven couldn't tell you why he wanted this as badly as he did to begin with, but he certainly understood why once it happened.  
It was so different to all the yanking and rough handling from before. It was rather soothing, healing even. Maybe he was just touchstarved, but he soaked every sensation up and fully relaxed against Charles' chest.

Least till Charles lightly mentioned, "I know you're a toppat and all, but.."  
  
At that, Sven became as tense as a fully strung out wire. His heart pounded in his ears, screaming at him to run away, beam himself up, _anything,_ but he couldn't.  
It was like he were trapped in this comfy cocoon, ready to accept any coming winds or sleet, uncaring, but simultaneously feeling the same hurricane from within.  
  
"..but uh, I don't think that should get in the way of us hanging out, y'know?"

Sven's mouth was dry. "Charles, I.."

"Naw, it's all good. I just wanted to let you know. It's fine if you don't wanna uh, meet up again." Sven almost wanted to cry upon hearing that.

"How did you know?"

He shrugged. "You weren't in any registered databases, but I knew since the first time we met."

"What??" That long ago?

"You uh, pointed to the same field I found you in." Now Sven _really_ felt like tearing his hair out. "And there's no other settlement for miles and miles there. Only way to really get there and be lost is by teleportation.. like um, a beam."

Holy crap, since the _beginning?_ Sven jerked once to try and move away, and the hands stopped their brushing momentarily. Both stilled.

Sven rapidly filtered through the past months, to recall any interrogative questions Charles might have secretly asked him. Any signs of manipulation, any at all.  
The longer he went, the more his breathing slowed, and inch by inch he began to calm himself.

He.. he... Sven couldn't find anything. Charles never asked anything personal, anything incriminating. And Sven himself had never revealed likewise. Sven looked up at Charles, bewildered.

"Why?"

Charles waited until Sven was fully lax against him again to resume smoothing down his hair.

"I think you're a good person." _Good fuck._ "And, well, it's not like I have any hard evidence of you being a toppat."

"You could've recorded this confession."

"Maybe. You could search me if you want." Charles held out both his arms to a T, and Sven actually twisted around to look at him, this ridiculous man. Unfiltered, his face just looked as chill as always.  
His eyes went down to his pilot uniform, and his hands gently touched the thin waist, holding it. Charles kept his arms apart as if this were a pat down, but they both knew he wasn't really searching for anything. Then, Sven sunk into the open arms and sighed as they returned around him, a hand going back to lackadaisically brushing the hair.

"So.. you're not going to arrest me or anything?"

"Nah."

"Not even if you find proof?"

His nails grazed his lower neck just then, making him shiver. "Nah. What'll capturing one member do? Unless we interrogate them or something."

"What if I told you I'm a higher up member?"

"What if I told you, that I still don't care?" Sven chuckled. "Only impounding the entire clan, or maybe the main leaders, would really make a difference."

The implications of the first scenario hung over them, and Charles cleared his throat. "Look, just think of this as an individual truce maybe? I kinda just wanna talk with you. I'd like to think you're a friend by now. "

"Me too."

"Cool.. yea, cool."

Sven closed his eyes, hearing nothing but both their breathing and the constant stroking on his head.

"This is nice." Sven had to say.

"Mhm."

And it really was.  
Sven contentedly stayed in that position till the sun went down. He knew, they both did, that nothing would come of this. A shared understanding that it couldn't; just ears to listen, a mouth to listen to, and hands to comfort or hold. It wouldn't surmount to much more, but Sven was perfectly okay with that.  
To simply stay in this lovely limbo, let the surging affection rise and stay, but not overtake. To keep in the present, and cross any burning bridges when they got there.

He opened his eyes, then nudged Charles to open his. "My name is-" Charles cut him off.

**Author's Note:**

> Made some art for this mess eyy  
> https://twitter.com/FuchsiaTwit/status/1341920029999157249


End file.
